


The Sun Rises in the West

by VesperNights



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Character Death, Other, Prophecy, not a queen a khaleesi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26555272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperNights/pseuds/VesperNights
Summary: Daenerys' last moments.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	The Sun Rises in the West

Daenerys had padded silently into the throne room, surprised her heart beat wasn’t echoing off the great stone walls. Snow white ash fell gently through the remains of the roof above her. She felt a humming under her feet, around her, inside of her. The room was alive; it felt her presence. The Iron Throne was waiting for her and only her. She was finally home. She took back what was  _ rightfully hers _ . The people of King’s Landing had been liberated; she had saved them from Cersei’s tyranny. Tyrion, the traitor, didn’t understand. She didn’t torch a city, she gave it new life. She alone, as the rightful heir to the iron throne, knew what the people of Westeros needed: peace. She brought them peace. And it felt so right, it felt so real, it felt so powerful. Her and Drogon were one, breaking the wheel and bringing a new world to the seven kingdoms. She knew now that she couldn’t stop there. She could free them all. Free them all.

_ Burn them all _ . She heard a faint voice in the back of her head. A whisper, an echo. She pushed it aside; it meant nothing, had nothing to do with her.

Daenerys stretched out an ivory white hand and, for the first time, touched what was rightfully hers. The iron of the throne was cool to the touch, and it seemed to buzz beneath her hands, the swords of Aegon’s enemies. She was filled with an overwhelming sensation, like fire would pour from her mouth if she opened it. It was a triumphant scream that took hold of her somewhere deep inside, and it terrified her and excited her and she felt terrible and great and her enemies would feel it, too.

_ You torched a city _ . No, the traitor didn’t understand. But Jon would. Jon would see. Jon would join her.

And then, as though she summoned him, Jon Snow was there. He had come to her. The ashes so much like his namesake were lightly falling into his hair, and she wanted him by her side, she wanted him to share in her dream. He was a dragon, too, she thought. She felt her blood rushing through her, pulling her to him. 

Jon was speaking, but her head was filled with a sharp ringing and a violent wind; the echoes of bells, the screams of being reborn. He spoke the language of the old world. She grasped him, trying to be patient, to help him see the new world she had planned for them. 

When they kissed, she felt fate stitching together and prophecies unwritten. Mirri Maz Duur was wrong. She would bear a child, he would be the Prince that Was Promised, the heir to the Iron Throne, and the last head of the three-headed dragon. Her, Jon, and their child--Targaryens, all. 

But now she tasted blood in her throat, though she still tasted Jon on her lips. From somewhere in the distance, she heard a dragon roar. She was searing, and the room went silent; even the wind was gone. Her ears were ringing as Jon lowered her down to the floor.

_ Is this what it feels like to burn?  _ Daenerys wondered, as she gazed, shocked and blurry-eyed at the knife in her chest. Her mind had to catch up to the pain. At first, it was just a pressure, an exclamation point, a surprise. Sharp. Cold. Snow. Steel. Jon Snow. Valyrian steel,  _ Valar morghulis,  _ all men must die.  _ But I am not a man _ , Dany thought,  _ I am a dragon. _

_ Burn them all _ . No.

Tears were falling from Jon Snow’s face. Daenerys couldn’t lift her arm to wipe them. The room was titling, then shrinking. Through the blur, Drogon’s wings appeared. Jon was holding her and he felt like ice. The fire that had twisted inside of her, building and churning, was gone; she was utterly empty. The ringing grew louder and louder. A darkness was devouring her vision from all sides.

And then it stopped, abruptly, and she heard the soft cantor of a horse. The blackness receded, replaced by a bright, blinding light. From the west. She heard the whispers of the Dothraki all around her, they were coming for their Khaleesi of the Great Grass sea. A baby cried. A dragon roared. The sun rose in the west.

She couldn’t feel Jon’s arms anymore. She couldn’t see the Iron Throne. She could see the sun and the stars. Khal Drogo had come for her at last, his horse a mighty throne, his great braid falling down his back, he was unscarred, untarnished, completely whole.

_ Moon of my life _ , he said. She smiled. 

Cradled in his arms, his tears falling steadily on her neck, Jon Snow heard Daenerys sigh one last time. When Drogon came and took her in his talon, he flew away with her to who knows where. Jon, wrecked and wretched, watched Drogon fly away from the burned and broken Red Keep. He watched him fly farther and farther towards the horizon, until he was finally gone. And the moment before the last dragon disappeared from the world forever, he could swear, for a fraction of a second, that he saw the mountains blowing in the wind.


End file.
